travelingcolors:

Botanical Garden, Lisbon | Portugal (by Zanthia)

well son of a - if we didn’t walk past this just about every day during our trip last year wondering what the hell it looked like inside!

hungryhunterhunts:

Portugal + Café

Workstation #03… Drink Coffee in Lisbon

Coffee. It’s an essential part of every RAD AND HUNGRY sourcing trip. It fuels me but it also relaxes me. I need a chunk of time where I can sit and reflect about all the new things I‘m discovering… the smells, the tastes, the sights, the people. Sometimes it’s more of a daydreaming trance, and other times I’m madly scribbling in my travel journal.

My coffee drink of choice is a breve. A cappuccino when I’m traveling unless it’s not an option. Then it’s usually a cafe con leche. In Paraguay, it didn’t matter what I ordered, all drinks included a piece of chocolate dropped into the coffee! And now… I got a new drink – the galão.

Kaffeehaus, Chiado
Rua Anchieta 3 / 1200 Lisbon, Portugal / (21) 095-6828

Hen knows what’s up.

But the reality, as Gomes pointed out, is that every culture—and especially this one—is formed and re-formed by exchanges, influences, and adaptations. If we want to see a place as it truly is, and not just as we imagine it to be, we have to be open to the multiple immigrant cultures that are an essential part of that place.

GET.

OUT!

UPDATE: weather isn’t beach friendly. so, pass. 

Yesssss @kingfolkmag @phinphebes #food #travel

… as opposed to ILLegal travel to Cuba? I don’t get these ads.

also the other day when I confessed my weird fascination with cocaine stories and a desire to travel to countries with a history of cocaine trades, I was pointed to this site. 

enroutemagazine:

We went whole hog for Puerto Rican cuisine. (Discover more of our archives.)
La gastronomie portoricaine vous mène à bon porc (Découvrez le reste de nos archives).

Photo by / de João Canziani.

See more from the enRoute archives. 
Consultez les archives d’enRoute.

enRoute is really killing it all travel stuff.

roadsandkingdoms:

Dish #3 of 11 from the Year in Food

Carne Asada Super Burrito
El Farolito, San Francisco

Like all sensible Californians, half my motivation for returning to my home state involves consuming dangerous quantities of Cali-Mex food—above all, hulking carne asada burritos. The best can be found amidst the dizzying biosphere of taquerías in San Francisco’s Mission District. Of the nearly 100 burrito dispensaries in the neighborhood, the king remains El Farolito, a place neither entirely Mexican nor American, but completely Californian.

Farolito is a place where hangovers go to die, a dark, loud, balmy sliver of a restaurant on Mission just off 24th Street that serves food well into the small hours of the morning. The chips are lousy, the salsa is timid, but goddamn do those guys know how to put out a fine burrito.

Farolito’s version weighs in at just under two pounds. The tortilla, about the size of a manhole cover, is first gently coaxed into pliability on the griddle, then layered with great mounds of pinto beans and orange rice, avocado and sour cream, cheese, salsa, and, of course, about eight ounces of finely chopped carne asada.

It lands with a thud on your table, a warm package wrapped tight in shiny foil. You peel it back like a present and for one brief moment it feels like Christmas has come early. There is nothing subtle about the food before you. You won’t think about how the char of the beef plays beautifully off the heat of the salsa and the acidity of the sour cream. In fact, if your tasting notes move much beyond “holy shit”, you’re trying too hard.

If the taco is about the union of warm corn and savory meat, the burrito is about the fellowship of fat, salt and refined carbohydrates. It drips and oozes, gasps and groans, and slowly buckles and unravels under its own weight. By the time you peel back that last inch of foil, it’s gathered itself into a shapeless mass of beef fat and bean paste and salsa detritus. It’s not uncommon to hear slurping at the end of an El Farolito Super.

roadsandkingdoms:

Dish #5 of 11 from the Year in Food

Causa Limeña
Canta Ranita, Lima, Peru
We’ve been known to occasionally indulge in foodporn on these pages, giving centerfold coverage to dishes otherwise disconnected from social, historical, or cultural contexts that might give them a loftier sense of being in the edible universe. The most brazen smut peddling we did all year came from a tiny restaurant stall in the El Capullo Market in Lima, where a young cook constructs this monolithic masterpiece.

The gorgeous heap before you is called causa, or sometimes causa limeña, in a nod to the dish’s popularity in the Peruvian capital. Unlike Peru’s most famous dish, ceviche, there is nothing vaguely light or refreshing about this tower of power. Causa comes in an impressive number of iterations served up at a vast ecosystem of high-end restaurants, market stalls, and surf shacks, but the thread that holds them all together is three-fold: mashed potatoes, avocado, and mayonnaise—a triple-cream explosion of monotextural extremity.

Within those generous parameters, of course, there is plenty of room for personalization. Peruvian cooks treat causas the same way short-order cooks at Waffle House treat hash browns: scattered (with herbs, onions, chilies), smothered (in salsa de ají, key lime juice, mountain cheese), covered (in octopus tentacles, baby shrimp, shredded duck), and topped (with olives, hard-boiled eggs, raw peppers).

We were shooting video when this tower came together. As Vicente Furgiuele, the fast-talking Peruvian-Argentine owner and cook at Canta Ranita in El Capullo market in Barranco, went about forming those yellow-fleshed potatoes into hockey pucks, spiking the mayo with lime juice, layering the snapper nuggets (coated in oyster sauce before frying—a nod to the deep Asian influence on Lima’s cuisine), building that causa ever higher, Nathan and I had to cover our mouths to stifle the tide of laughter evoked by this incredible display of excess.

Of course, when beers were poured and forks placed before us, the plate was scraped to within an inch of its life. Moral or not, Roads & Kingdoms is down for the causa.

roadsandkingdoms:

Dish #7 of 11 from the Year in Food

Completo
Dominó, Santiago, Chile

Carolina Miranda risked life and limb in a series of fearless food dispatches from South America, reporting on tamale sandwiches, psychedelic candy apples, and, most enticingly of all, Chile’s formidable contribution to the encased meats canon, el completo.

Take a hot dog. Smother it in mashed avocados and a fistful of chopped tomatoes. Add geologic layers of sauerkraut, sliced green chilies, chopped onions with parsley, and a viscous, vinegary mix of finely minced pickled cucumbers and carrots. Then dress with ketchup, mustard and a pillow of puffy artisanal mayonnaise. This otherworldly behemoth is known as the completo (as in: “complete”) and it is a staple in Chile, where cafés, bistros, fast food outlets, mall food courts and home cooks all produce some version of it, adding signature flourishes such as scrambled eggs, sautéed onions, melted cheese, crumbled bacon and various sauces, hot and otherwise.

In a country renowned for its low-key, downright conservative demeanor, the completo proves that there is a well of insanity lying just beneath the surface — a decadent subconscious poking holes in all that well-mannered Catholic morality. Put this hot dog into your mouth for the very first time, and you may feel as if you’ve been deflowered. It is a sublime combination of grease and citric tartness, squishy avocado and crunchy onions, snappy meat and hearty bun. Once you’ve had it, there is no going back to the pedestrian combination of ketchup and mustard.

secondsminuteshours:

a few reasons why we love sao paulo.

on the bucket list.